


If the Truth is What You Want, You’ve Come to the Wrong Place

by misreall



Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [14]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Deception, Dirty Talk, F/M, Jealousy?, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: Loki Gets Married.  Not to Nora.





	If the Truth is What You Want, You’ve Come to the Wrong Place

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after the Road to Hel is Paved with Misunderstandings
> 
> I needed an angst break.

Nora stalked away from Loki, her flowing, pine-colored skirts like a swarm of clouds about her feet, her head proud and furious.

She was tall enough to carry it off.  There was something near to regal in her bearing, and he was impressed.

The effect was somewhat spoiled when she turned back and flipped him off, but still.  Not a bad effort at all.

Duke Gunnir watched her as well.  “Your, um, concubine is quite impressive.  But I believe she may be less than pleased with you, Highness.”

Loki shrugged, pushing a lock of hair back into place from where it had fallen under the force of her slap to his face.  Enough force that if he had been mortal, it probably would have hurt rather badly. “It is of no moment. Now, shall we join Lady Kiara and her mother?  Our wedding has waited long enough, after all.”

“Three hundred years,” the Duke answered, a scolding tone in his voice.

“How time flies,” Loki said airily, gesturing for the other man to lead the way as he checked his court armor and magically added a bit of extra luster to his horned helm.  One only got married every so often and should make an effort.

 

As if offering her a consolation prize for her husband marrying another woman, the Duke had given Nora a lovely room with a huge balcony overlooking a moonlit garden filled with flowering trees.  There was even a softly babbling brook out there somewhere to serenade her.

The room itself had a bed with silk sheets, draped in heavily embroidered velvet throws in green, of fucking course.  As was every one of the elegant, fussy gowns that filled the massive closet. 

“Charles?”

Her impeccable, grey-suited manservant appeared from the air.  Since they had left earth he no longer was constrained in the use of some of his more… demonic powers.  “Mistress?” 

She started pacing, kicking the stupid skirt she was wearing out of her own way as she went.  “There are some kind of stores on this idiotic planet, right? I mean, I know they don’t have Target or Banana Republic, but someplace to get clothes.”

“I believe so.”

“Great, perfect.  Here,” she threw him her purse, which was stuffed with the coins they used here.  Loki had given them to her earlier, actually kissing her on the cheek and telling her to  _ buy  _ herself something.  To keep her entertained.  

While he got married.

That was when she slapped him.

“I want anything, ANYTHING that isn’t a fucking gown.  And anything that isn’t green. In fact, I want red. Get me red jeans, red sweaters, red shirts, red interstellar, magical high-tops, all the red you can get.”

“But, mistress,” Charles looked stricken.  It was the most expression she had ever seen on his face, “you’ll  _ clash _ !” he whispered, pointing to the decor.  “And red is Prince Tho-”

“Oh, I’m gonna clash alright.”

With just the slightest, barest hint of hesitation he was gone.  

And back almost instantly, bearing bags and bags of red clothing.  Apparently time worked differently for him in space. 

“Um, great.” 

The red clashed so much with the room it looked like murder Christmas by the time she finished working her way through the bags and put together an outfit.

Because she had sent Charles rather than going herself, the clothes were as elegant as they were arterial.  A cashmere (or whatever they had on Vanaheim) tunic, multi-layered silk pants, knee-high, stratospherically heeled suede boots that made her feel like a superhero.

Hemorrhage woman, or something.

She made quite the impression at the wedding.

 

Well, that had gone rather worse than expected, all around, Loki thought as he escorted his lovely bride away from the wedding feast.

The Grand Ducal hall had looked exquisite, bedecked in his green and Kiara’s pale lemon.  The guests had dressed to show if they were there to represent his side - those members of Frigga’s family who were not friendly to the AllFather, mostly - or hers.  Very tasteful. 

The flowers were luminescent, offering ambient light, giving the room a dreamy glow.

The music was pretty, soft, and he had to admit undistinguished.  Time on Midgard had spoiled his palate for the music of the other Realms.  

Everything was perfect.  The wedding his mother had dreamt of for him when she had arranged the marriage to Kiara.  Who was enchanting. Her soft, reddish curls, the sweet, slightly calculating look in her eyes, the bountiful, almost vulgar abundance of her breasts.  She had been trained all of her life to serve as a courtier and adornment and was a triumph of education over character because he knew her to be at heart as wicked as on the surface she was refined.

They had played together in bed on more than one of his visits to his mother’s home and always left with his cock pleasantly sore, his balls empty, and with Kiara walking peculiarly for a few days afterwards.

It had been because of the power and depth of her suck that he had indulged Frigga in the engagement for as long as he had.  

Unfortunately he had forgotten all about it, and her.

But with finding out the long-kept secret of his birth, Thor’s exile to Midgard, his own ascension to the throne of Asgard, attempting to destroy Jotunheim and then attempting suicide in the same day, his falling into Thanos’s tender care, the theft of the Tesseract, the invasion of Midgard, his imprisonment, Frigga’s death, that business with the Aether, faking his death, _ his  _ exile on Midgard, being stuck in the body of a faultily constructed mortal, actually dying in that body, being brought to himself again, running a magical consultancy, allowing himself to be captured by Captain Planet and the Planeteers, fighting HYDRA, being returned to Odin, working as Odin’s agent, and then finding a way to free himself from his father and hide from Thanos... he’d had a rather busy few years and things would slip anyone’s mind under those circumstances.

And, Nora, needless to say.  Nora was very distracting.

Especially when she swaggered into the elegant room, appearing as if painted in blood, carrying a glass of something stronger than wine and looking for trouble.

When he walked past, leading the veiled and demure acting Kiara, Nora put out a foot.  Yes, he was easily able to avoid it, but really.

The actual wedding ceremony was brief and simple. 

Kiara offered herself body and spirit to link forever with Loki.

They linked hands which her father then wrapped with a strand of silk, a thong of leather, and a chain of iron. 

Loki then recited the ancient vow.

“I shall hold thee within the compass of my arms, my heart, and my thoughts, before all other bonds.  I shall love thee, offering you the shelter of my soul and the security of my body, taking no other.”

“Don’t believe him, girl!”

Nora.

The crowd stirred and murmured.

He continued.

“I shall honor thee above myself-”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

More stirring, more murmuring.

“AND!” he shouted, then gritted out,”And put thy pleasure and joy before all, making you the whole of my waking and sleeping!”

“Whatever.  Cheers!”

He kissed Kiara with tenderness and a great show of love.

“This is boring.  I’ll catch me up in the mead-hall, y’all,” she staggered down the aisle, Kiara’s gaze trying to burn holes in her back as her special day when everyone was supposed to be looking at her was usurped.

Loki rolled his eyes hard enough to have a headache the rest of the night as he watched Nora - unmissable in the crowd in that garish get up - as she danced with every handsome man and drank her dinner.

Although he thought the boots were good.

Finally, things began to wind down, after the most interminable feast of his life.  Between one wife sitting on the lap of a Alfheim nobleman and letting him feed her grapes, and the other one’s fingers wandering into his lap periodically he was ready for the dinner and a show portion of the evening to be over with.

He had risen, glass in hand, arm around Kiara’s waist, to give a final toast and say their good nights when Nora stood up on one of the tables and wolf whistled, staggering slightly even whilst standing still.

“Yo!  Hey! Everyone has spent the whole night toasting the LOVELY couple and offering their best wishes, but I haven’t had my turn.  So here goes.”

She sang.

Any evidence of drunkenness fell away as her voice rose.

_ So you quote love unquote me _ _   
_ _ Well, stranger things have come to be _ _   
_ _ But let's agree to disagree _ _   
_ _ Cause I don't believe you _ _   
_ _ I don't believe you _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You tell me I'm not not cute _ _   
_ _ Its truth or falsity is moot _ _   
_ _ Cause honesty's not your strong suit _ _   
_ _ And I don't believe you _ _   
_ _ I don't believe you _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You tell me of what once was _ _   
_ _ And all about Buck, Butch, and Buzz _ _   
_ _ How they were not like me because... _ _   
_ _ But I don't believe you _ _   
_ _ I don't believe you _ _   
_ _   
_ _ I had a dream and you were in it _ _   
_ _ The green of your eyes was infinite _ _   
_ _ You seemed to be _ _   
_ _ In love with me _ _   
_ _ Which isn't very realistic _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You may sing me "They Were You" _ _   
_ _ And I start crying halfway through _ _   
_ _ But nothing else you say is true _ _   
_ _ So I don't believe you _ _   
_ __ I don't believe you

_ You may set your charm on stun _ _   
_ _ And say I'm delightful and fun _ _   
_ _ But you say that to everyone _ _   
_ _ Well, I don't believe you _ _   
_ _ I don't believe you _ _   
_ _   
_ _ So you're brilliant, gorgeous, and _ _   
_ _ Ampersand after ampersand _ _   
_ _ You think I just don't understand _ _   
_ _ But I don't believe you _ _   
_ _ I don't believe you _ _   
_ _ I don't believe you _ _   
_ __ I don't believe you

 

The applause she received was genuine, as were some of the laughs and equal number of confused looks.  All of which made Kiara’s fuming reach its apex as she motioned for her father to  _ do something _ about this.

Then Nora polished off her glass, tossed it over her shoulder, and pitched backwards off of the table, caught at the last minute by Charles who appeared from nowhere.

Duke Gunnir appeared, furious, his sense of humor and proportion long since overwhelmed.  “Prince Loki, I was willing to accept your concubine coming with you, staying in my home, even attending my daughter’s wedding because that is how things are done.  But this loud, coarse, rude, drunken creature is no longer welcome here.”

“HEY!  I resemble that remark!” Nora said, and then started laughing again.  “Thanks for the catch, Charlie,” she said, kissing their servant who turned the color of her hideous raiment. 

“I completely understand.  Nora!” Loki barked at her.

She jumped out of Charles’ arms, her head bowed, looking chastised.  The boots she wore brought her height to just under his nose and she stood so close to him her hair tickled.

She smelled like whisky.

“You have been a very bad girl tonight.  Daddy is very, very mad at you!” 

Her bright brown eyes were filled with unshed tears, “Sorry...” she mumbled.

“I think we have all had enough of you for some time.  Charles, take her…” he made a disgusted gesture, “anywhere!  Just away from me. My poor bride has been humiliated enough for one night.”  He turned and looked at Kiara through her light veil. “I am so, so sorry my darling girl.”

“It is not your fault, my prince.  Misalliances will happen,” she said, with a sneer for Nora, her eyes gleaming with frustration as attention still was not entirely on her.

“Go now,” he said to Charles, not even looking up from Kiara’s eyes.

“Nooooooo!!!! Please!” Nora begged and wailed as Charles dragged her from the hall.

Loki kissed Lady Kiara’s hand, to the applause of the guests, as Nora’s voice faded into the distance.

 

Kiara’s rooms were a sensual feast, like a more obvious version of his own bedroom.  

They had barely crossed the threshold when she hastily dismissed the handmaidens who had been bedecking the bed with rose petals, filling the tub with scented waters, and pouring wine.  

“I’ve waited for this for so long,” Loki breathed, his heart racing, as he removed his bride’s veil.  “Oh, how beautiful. Exquisite.”

“Thank you, my husband,” Kiara cooed at him, reaching up to wrap her arms about his neck, “let’s not wait for the bed, take me against the wall like you did that time in your rooms on Asgard.”

Loki cocked his head and looked confused for a moment, then light dawned.  “Oh, so sorry Ki, I was not referring to you.”

“I- what?”  She let him go and glared.

“This,” he reached out and delicately plucked Frigga’s tiara from her time as Odin’s princess, before their ascension to the throne, “I was talking about this.”  He shook a finger in her face, “You really shouldn’t have cast that little spell on it, you bad girl.”

“It worked, did it not?” she said coyly. 

When he had reluctantly agreed to become affianced to Kiara, Loki had reasoned that no one said he had to actually go through with it.  But then his mother had given the coronet she had worn as Odin’s princess to the girl, reasoning that since she had promised it to Loki for his bride, it was fine for her to have it a little early.

When, after a few years of enjoying playing with her, Loki decided it was time to break things off with her and get his property back, Kiara had refused and had cast a spell on the coronet that he would not be able to even touch it until after their wedding.

Frigga had been furious, and had appealed to her parents, but they were determined that whatever their daughter wanted she would have.  Loki himself had hated being pressed, determined that someday he would wrest it from the wretched bitch. But then life intervened and one scheme turned into twenty and it was forgotten.

Until recently when he had been watching Nora laugh and thought how he would have given anything to have presented her to his mother, just once.  

Then he simply had to have it.

Loki leaned in, whispering low in her ear, making her shiver, “Yes, we had a lovely ceremony,” he ran a hand down her side, pulling her against him, “it’s such a shame that it was not binding.”

“Wha- What?!”  

“You keep saying that.  I do not remember you being this slow, Kiara.  As I am already married, nothing we just did was binding.  Except, of course, this.”

He waved a hand in the air and the soft ropes he knew that Kiara kept beside her bed coiled through the air, wrapping around her arms and legs, dragging her somewhat roughly to a chair and securing her there.  At the same time, a pretty pink scarf gagged her.

“Not to worry, darling, nothing too tight.  I remember what you could take from just  _ ages _ ago and I am sure you have only grown stronger.  You’ll be perfectly fine until your attendants check on us in the morning.”  And with that he gave the struggling, squealing girl a quick salute and heel-turned out of her life forever.

 

Nora was reading in the veranda at Frigga’s house on the other side of Vanaheim when she heard something from the garden.  It was almost dawn, and she knew that Charles was probably folding underwear, and that the old elf woman who kept the estate was probably still in bed.

She wandered towards the sound, down stone paths and over wooden slat walkways, surrounded by those faintly luminescent flowers that she had thought were so magical at the wedding.  She snorted quietly to herself. She’d never get used to the idea that now in her life things that seemed magical actually were most of the time.

Ahead, she could see a flash of moonlight on golden horns.

Her husband was gathering flowers, still dressed for his wedding.

Nora leaned on a tree with her arms crossed and watched for a while as his long, gloved fingers deftly plucked a blossom here and there, his expression intense as if picking the exact right flowers was of the greatest importance.  Almost scowling as he dismissed stalk after stalk for not meeting whatever criterion he had created for the perfect bouquet. 

Finally, a smile of satisfaction on his face, he rose and gaze at her, his head cocked.  “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I like watching you do anything.  You’re so fussy it’s adorable.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “Adorable?”

She stepped close to him, taking the huge bouquet, “Adorable.  Cute. Kawaii, even.”

He looked her up and down slowly.  She could feel it. “You’re still dressed in that disgusting color.”

“Yeah.” she noticed how her red silk shirt looked next to his green leather everything, “We look like we’re in a Christmas-themed porno.  ‘Mrs. Claus and the Kinkiest Elf,’ or something.”

“Hmmm,” he snapped his fingers and she was naked.

Save for the boots.

“These flowers, the blue ones, which you will notice I have made your posey of exclusively,” he said, taking one from the bunch, “have an unusual property.”

Leaning down he circled her nipple with his tongue, then sucked until it was deep pink.  He then brushed the head of the bloom down the curve of her breast, brushing it lightly over the already sensitive nipple.  

The flower seemed to vibrate subtly, and left a warm, tingling feeling behind it that worked through the delicate skin and quickly into her bloodstream.  Nora could actually feel her eyes dilate, her skin flush, her heartbeat quicken, and her cunt ache as it grew wet and swollen. She could even feel her clit grow hard and eager.  “Is everything in space an aphrodisiac?” Her knees weak, she leaned against his side so Loki could hold her up, his leather clad arm rasping against her waist, his gloved fingers softly squeezing her side.

He laughed against her lips, taking her jaw in his other hand and forcing her mouth to his.  The kiss was calculated, thought out, considered, as his tongue stroked hers, knowing the place under her lower lip that would make her squeal and then pretend she hadn’t made that sound.  When he lured her tongue back into his mouth so he could suck on it, her legs gave out entirely.

With a pleased laugh, Loki laid her on a bed he had already made of those same blue flowers.  As she writhed from almost too much sensation, he stood over her and opening his hands, made more petals from the flowers rain over her body.

Barely aware that he had stretched out beside her, Nora found herself clutching at his hand as his gloved fingers stroked between her labia.  He allowed her to push his fingers into her and worked at her, all the while smiling at her. “You were magnificent tonight, treasure. Soooo much trouble.  But...” he pulled his fingers out and her cunt felt empty and needy, “I. Did. Not. Like. Your. Song.”

He slapped her clit with each word, each strike incrementally harder and faster, the leather of his gloves wet and adding more sting, until the last one, to punctuate his seriousness, sent her over the edge, her cunt pulsing faster than her heart, her back bowing as her bootheels sunk into the wet earth.

When she came back from where he has sent her, Loki was leaning over her, watching, a lazy, pleased smile on his face.  “But your voice was beautiful…” he purred, sliding down her body to kiss the sting away.

By the time he had finished his feast, leaving her boneless and only semi-sentient, the sun was out and brilliant, and glinting off of his horns above her as he threw her legs over his shoulders and fucked into her, having only moved aside enough of his armour to free his cock.

The deep, rough strokes pushed the ground flowers against her skin, making Nora almost convulse as she felt every place where he touched her, and felt every response of her flesh.  She could feel the blood moving in her veins, the wet squelching out around his thrusts, maybe even the chemicals in her brain aligning themselves as she came around him over and over, pulling him so deep it hurt and then past hurt.

When he boiled over into her, his hips snapping down, Nora grabbed handfuls of his hair, pulling his head back so she could scream against his neck.

Afterwards, they lay with their legs tangled together, until they heard the tart voice of Diole (the house elf, Nora almost pee’d herself laughing over that), “If you are done with all of that… fornicating, I made breakfast.  If you don’t come eat now I’ll just throw it on the lawn and you can have it there, you animals.”

In spite of the threat, Loki insisted that they bathe and dress properly beforehand.  Or that he bathe and dress both of them. So they ended up having more brunch than breakfast.

As she drank coffee - Charles had managed to persuade the prickly woman to allow him access to the kitchen to make it - Nora finally asked, “So, did you get it?”

Not interrupting his devouring of his fifth pastry of the morning, Loki pointed to the top of her head.

She reached up.  

Yup, she was wearing a princess thing-y on her head.

“How long has that been there?” she sighed.

He didn’t answer, but she knew.  

And sighed again.

  
  
  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song Nora sings is by The Magnetic Fields. I have a lot of their songs on my Loki playlist-  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7yePNyz-nc


End file.
